


Holiday decor

by jkkitty



Series: 2018 Advent Ficlet Challenge [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Parentlock, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-07 16:31:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 11,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16857469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jkkitty/pseuds/jkkitty
Summary: Sherlock Holmes doesn't understand why everyone is so excited about Christmas.  With the help of his friends and family, he learns what it's all about.Tags will be added as the story goes on.Written for 2018 Advent Ficlet Challenge with prompts from MissDavis.





	1. Holiday Decor

Sherlock huff and turned to the back of the couch mumbling about Christmas decorations and the idiotic of those who spend time, money, and effort indulging in them

“Come on Papa, please,” begged three-year-old Rosie.  “Help me reach the top of the tree.  The lights are so pretty.”

“I’m thinking. Ask Daddy,” Sherlock said.

“But you are biggest and can reach the top of the tree.  Pleeessseee.”

Sherlock couldn’t refuse the little one’s begging. The tree was nine feet, and of course, even Sherlock would have a problem.  “Fine, I’ll help,” then notice John hiding behind his paper with a smirk on his face.

“You did this,” he accused his flat mate.

“Come on Sherlock.  This is the first Christmas Rosie will really remember.  She wants you to be part of it.”

“Fine, I’ll help her put the ornaments on the top half of the tree.   Being so short, you can do the bottom half.” 

“Hey,” John protested.

Sherlock turned with a smile and picked up Rosie.  “We’ll let those who are height-challenged to do the lower branches.”

“Daddy, you do them down there because you are short, right Papa?”

John glared at Sherlock as the detective picked up the ornament and handed it to his goddaughter.  “Rosie, you just hook this part over the branch then the next one.”  Sherlock helped her place it.

Watching his daughter hand up one ornament after the other, John couldn’t help but smile.  Sherlock talked softly to her.  Giving her the history of ornaments, how to place the colors, so they didn’t crash and moving her around to make sure no ornament was too close to another.

After they finished their half of the ornaments, Sherlock noticed John hadn’t placed any of his on the tree. “I’m not doing your half.”

“I help you, daddy.  Papa taught me how. I can even do the bottom of the tree myself.”

As John watched his daughter, tongue out concentrating on hanging each ornament as Sherlock had taught her, he moved to stand by Sherlock and with thick emotion in this voice said, “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything other than what you asked me to do.” Sherlock didn’t understand John’s emotional response.

“Yes, you did.   Sherlock, you are so special to her, and you helped her remember this tree because you helped make it special to her.”

A blushing Sherlock looked at the small girl trying so hard to do the decorations as Sherlock had explained it to her a small smile on her face.  “I need to check on my experiment,” he mumbled as he left the room.


	2. 2. Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stars

“Oh, they’re beautiful.  The colors and the blinking, oh Sherlock just look at them.”  John grinned up into his partner’s eyes.

“John, are you alright?”

“I’m fine.   I can’t believe they’re so beautiful.” John started pointing toward the ceiling.

 “What are you talking about?”

“The stars Sherlock.  Their all flying around the room,”   

“John sit down. You’re obviously not alright.  You were hit on the head by the box Rosie tried to pull down from the high shelve.”  Sherlock carried Rosie as he led his flatmate to his chair, checked his head then headed to find a bump starting to grow but no blood, and headed to the kitchen for ice.

“Daddy, I sorry.  I no mean to hurt you.  I just trying to help.”  The three-year-old was crying and holding on to her papa’s shirt.  She had managed to pull a step ladder John had been using to put up decorations over to a shelving unit upstairs.

Frighten when he and Sherlock had walked into the room, John had yelled for her not to move, startling her, causing her to grab ahold of a box, pulling it down as she lost her footing, beginning to fall with the box following her down.   Sherlock had managed to catch her, but the heavy box hit John on the head.

“Shh Watson, it’s okay.  Daddy will be fine soon,” Sherlock rubbed the crying girl after handing a frozen bag of peas to John for his head.

“I hurt daddy, papa.  He be mad at me.”  She sobbed.

“I’m not mad darling. But you can’t climb a ladder again.  If papa hadn’t caught you the box, it could have fallen on you and really hurt you.”  John began to make sense.  “She’s alright isn’t she Sherlock?”

“Just frightened,” reassuring the doctor, he placed Rosie on John’s lap.  “Are you okay?”

“Just a headache.”

Sherlock went over to the box that fell to find the star for the top of the tree on the floor that Rosie had been looking for.  “Did you want the honor to top our tree?”  He smirked at John.  “After all you did find it after all, when the box fell on you.”

“Very funny Sherlock.   I think this year I’d like to get an angel for the top.  Is that all right with you, Rosie?”

“Okay, daddy.  Then we no have to climb to get her.

“Oh, why is that?” Sherlock asked her.

“She just fly up there,”  Rosie explained.  Both men just smiled at the innocence of the child.


	3. You better watch out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is warned 'You better watch out'

“Please, Sherlock.  You better watch out that someone doesn’t see you taking those body parts out of the lab.  I’d be in trouble even fired if they knew I let you,” Molly warned the detective.

 

“I’m careful, don’t worry.”

 

“Sherlock, you better watch out.  One of these days you’re going to blow up the apartment with those experiments that you do.”  Mrs. Hudson was frustrated as they tried to clean up the kitchen after one of the experiments that blew up the kitchen table.

 

“Mrs. H.  I don’t make mistakes.  This was just an accident.”

 

“One of these days, Sherlock!  You better watch out, I’m not going to be around to stop one of my officers from knocking you out after you insult them.”  Greg warned helping the detective up from the ground where he had landed from the punch in the face from an officer.

 

“Well, he is an idiot.  Did you expect me to let his carelessness mess up the case?”

 

“Listen here, Sherlock. You better watch out. If you don’t stop doing things to upset your brother, you’re going to answer to me.  I guarantee that you’re not going to like my actions.”  Athnea threatened him after he had once caught by her sneaking into Mycroft’s house.

 

“I needed a file, and my brother wasn’t about to give it to me.  What did you expect me to do?”

 

“Really Sherlock, you better watch out.  Someday when your chasing a criminal you’ll be killed,” John warned him as he was stitched up the stab wound.

 

“The police would have let him get away if I didn’t chase him.”

 

“Little brother, you better watch out.  One of these days I won’t be able to save you from your actions.  And it will break my heart to see you sent away to your death.”  Mycroft sighed as he signed the papers that would erase the evidence of his brother’s involvement it the latest scandal.

 

Sherlock sat in his chair thinking how unfair it was that Mycroft always was sticking his nose into Sherlock’s life.  Someday…..

 

“Papa, you better watch out.  Santa watching you and he not gonna give you presents if you do not stop sneaking Daddy cookies.  They are a surprise.”  Three-year-old Rose snuggled on his lap worried about her papa.

 

“Okay little Watson, I promise to be good and watch out.”


	4. Snowman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After begging to go out, Rosie now refuses

Snowman

 

“NO! daddy.   Please no,” Rosie whined.

“Rosie you asked to go outside.  Now you’re refuse to move,” John had spent the last half an hour dressing three-year-old Rosie to go outside. He had struggled through the shirt, pants, sweatsuit, sweater, snow jacket, snow pants, two pairs of socks, boots, a hat under her hood, a scarf inside and outside and two pairs of gloves.

Since they had arrived at Sherlock’s parent’s house to stay for a few days while their kitchen was repaired after the detective’s last experiment accident, Rosie had begged to go out and play in the snow.  It was only minus 7 degrees and snowing yet.

Sherlock wasn’t any help as he was sulking in his bedroom unable to understand why they couldn’t just go to a hotel for a few days.   John had explained very loudly, knowing Rosie would hear him, that Sherlock’s parent wanted to see Rosie and offered to let them stay there until the flat was repaired. 

Rosie had heard that Grandma and Grandpa Holmes wanted them to come, and kissed, hugged, and begged Sherlock to let them go. Not able to say no to Rosie, he had agreed but let John know that he didn’t appreciate the tactics the doctor had used to get him to agree to go.

“Honey, you wanted to build a snowman, and it’s cold out.  We need to be all wrapped up to keep warm in the snow.”  John pleaded.

A laugh behind him had John turning around a threatening glare on his face.  “And what’s so funny Mr. Smart Ass.”

“Language John, there is a child in the room.”  Sherlock scolded him.

“Papa, daddy said a naughty word,” Rosie agreed with Sherlock.

Coming into the hallway where John had been trying to convince his daughter to go outside, Sherlock knelt down by the little one.

“Why don’t you want to go outside?  Its great snowman building weather,” he asked.

“Daddy dressed me too much.  I too big now and I want to build a snowman but can’t.”  Rosie started to cry.

 

“No Watson, no crying. Daddy just wants you from getting sick, even if he is overdoing it.  I’ll dress and come out with you with you too,” then whispered in his ear.  “We can surprise daddy with a snowball fight.”

Smiling, she forgot about being overdressed, stopped crying, and said, “Okay papa.”

As they walked out the door, Rosie raised her arms to Sherlock.

“Up then, my little snowgirl, Let’s show daddy how to build a snowman.”


	5. Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock doesn't understand how people can believe in St. Nick

“Daddy, what does believe mean?” Rosie asked as John and Sherlock picked her up from nursery school. She was walking between her two fathers, holding their hands and swinging them as they headed home.

Wondering why she was asking, Sherlock stopped and knelt down to her level.  “It means that you take something as true.  Why did you want to know?”  John smiled at how seriously Sherlock address Rosie all the time.

“Cause some of the big kids said they believe that tonight if we hang up our stockings by the fireplace St. Nickolas brings gifts and candy.   Do you and Daddy believe that, papa?”

Sherlock looked up at John.   He had never believed in mystical people or legends.  He knew John wanted his daughter not to be lied to, but he let her believe in a non-existing being to enjoy the holiday celebrations.  

“I think daddy should answer that question,” Sherlock stood. “John?”

 “Yes, Rosie.  If you hang up your stocking up tonight, St Nick will bring you a surprise.”

“You and papa too?”

“Of course.  Now let’s get home before we’re chilled to the bone.”

Rosie smiled and headed toward home skipping along while Sherlock scowled at John comment.

Once she laid down for her nap, John knew he needed to talk to Sherlock about St. Nick.

“Sherlock, thank you for not disillusioning Rosie’s belief in St Nick.”

“I don’t understand why she needs to believe in a creature that doesn’t exist.  You tell me that we must always tell her the truth, then lie to her about this St Nick.”

“It’s an innocent belief that fun for her.  It will help her grow knowing that there are good people out there,” John tried to explain.  “Besides it will make her happy.”

Sherlock huffed before heading to the kitchen and working on an experiment.

“Watch Rosie while I run to the store for some things for the stockings, will you?”  The nod from Sherlock had the doctor rushing out before Rosie would be up.

\----------

Sherlock watched from the kitchen as an excited Rosie helped John hang their stockings.  Rosie came runny into the kitchen, “Papa you hang your stocking too.”

“Remember the rule, no runny in the kitchen when I’m working.  That’s okay Watson, I don’t have one.”

“Sorry Papa, I forgot about running.  But you gotta hang stocking, or St Nick leaves you nothing.” She insisted.                                                                                                 

John pulled a stocking out of a bag, “Here your stocking Sherlock, why don’t you help papa hang it, Rosie.”

Glaring at John, Sherlock allowed Rosie to pull him to the fireplace and then lifted her to put his stocking next to hers.

After Rosie was down for the night, John tried talking to his flatmate about the tradition. 

“I see nothing fun about hanging a stocking, but I suppose this isn’t the last tradition you intend to insist we engage in.  I never believed in Santa Claus either. Good Night John.”

As Sherlock headed toward his room, once more John wondered what type of childhood Sherlock had that he never believed in what other children took for granted.

TBC


	6. Fireplace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The belief of what the fireplace does frustrates Sherlock

Fireplace

After John went to bed for the night, Sherlock returned to the living room and sat before the fireplace.  Looking at the stockings, he shook his head.   Accepting science is how he lived not believing in nonsense. How could someone as intelligent as John allow his daughter to grow up in a make world believe?

The fire was warm and comfortable, but Sherlock didn’t enjoy either.   The item in front of him was made from brick and mortar.  No person could every fit down it, and the door to the flat was locked.  How could anyone believe a fat man could slide down it and then back up it without anyone the wiser when it was a scientific impossibility.  And who could possibly believe one man could go around the world on one night to leave things for people who hung their stockings on the fireplace. 

Christmas was another example of foolishness with its group of flying reindeers pulling a man and a sack full of things.  Really the nonsense people believe in.  Let’s not forget the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fair.

Looking into the flicking fire that made the bricks shiny, Sherlock could see nothing special about the fireplace.   It gave warmth, was relaxing, and made one content but that was could all be explained by science.  Sherlock wondered if he would ever understand how the ‘goldfish’ in the world could justify all the rubbish that they believed. 

Pulling a cover over himself and stretching his feet toward the warmth, he closed his eyes falling asleep and into dreams of his past.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is short but needed to include it for the next chapter


	7. Memories

Sherlock’s dreams were memories of his youth.  He had come home from school excited about St Nick’s day.  He saw his mother’s disappointed face. “Sherlock, you know that isn’t possible.  It’s a story parents tell children to be good.  Now go and do the work I set out for you.”

The dream changed to when he lost his first tooth.  “Mycroft look what happened.  I’m going to put my tooth under the pillow, and the tooth fairy is going to give me some money under it. 

Mycroft looked up from his books, “Really you are stupid Sherlock.  There is no such thing as a tooth fairy.  There is no way someone would sneak into the house and take a useless tooth and give you money.”  “But the other kids….”

“Sherlock just because they’re stupid, doesn’t mean you need to be.  Now throw it away and get your work done.” 

Once again, the scene changed, and he was looking in a store window at decorated eggs.  “Can we do that?”  the younger Sherlock asked.

“Sorry son, but your mother wouldn’t like it.”

“But why?  there Easter eggs and maybe the Easter bunny will bring me some chocolate.”  His father had smiled and ruffed up his hair.

When they arrived home, he heard his father ask his mother if she was okay with dying Easter eggs and maybe get a chocolate bunny for him.

“No.   I won’t have him believe in magical creatures.   I can’t believe you want to support this nonsense,” 

His father had shaken his head and said, “He is only six, dear.”

“Old enough to know better.  Now I have these papers to correct.”  With a yes dear his father had let it drop.

_________________

Sherlock came out of mind palace when he heard small feet racing down the stairs.  No hello, but a scream of joy.

“Papa, papa St Nick has here.   Can you help me get my stocking down?   Pleeeaaaasssseeee” Rosie was so excited. Her eyes were glowing, and her cheeks were flushed with delight.

“I think we need to wait for your father to come down,” Sherlock knew John would want to be here to see his daughter empty her stocking.

Rosie ran up the stairs yelling, “Daddy, daddy St Nick was here.   Come downstairs.  Papa says I no see what inside my stocking to you downstairs.”  A few minutes later John and Rosie came down and headed toward the fireplace.

John handed Rosie her stocking, “You and papa get yours too.”

So, John took his down and saw that Sherlock wasn’t moving he handed the detective’s stocking Rosie.  “Give this to papa.”

Climbing on the couch, Rosie dumped her stocking out and smiled out everything oohing and aahing over the items. Showing each item to her father, she squealed with excitement.

As Sherlock and John watched her a smile spread on Sherlock’s face.  Maybe it wasn’t so bad to let her believe if it brought her so much joy.

After John emptied out his, Rosie noticed that Sherlock hadn’t look at his.  She climbed up on his lap and started to hand him the candy that was in it when handed him a wrapped gift.  Opening it slowly, he aghast.   “John, it's beautiful.”

John winked at him.  “I’m sure St. Nick knew you would like it.   Now Rosie, how about we make papa and us some breakfast.”

After John left the room, Sherlock gently touched the gift.  No one ever gave him something like this before.  John has seen him looking at it in the store window one day and must have gone back to buy it another day. Friendship is something he needed to investigate more.

[ ](https://s1260.photobucket.com/user/jkkitty/media/bbd9a2a5-6e09-4a7b-9654-4f9232d5a6e9_zpsyl9aqh5n.jpg.html)


	8. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected gift

Gift

Sherlock ran his fingers of the delicate design on the handle of the magnifying glass. It was the antiqued brass Imperial French Honey Bee Magnifying Glass that was set in in a brass frame and attached to a two-section brass and white glass handle with a honey bee, postmark, crown and script print on each section.  (see the previous chapter for picture)

Why would John get this for him?  Yes, they were flatmates who were raising Rosie together, but nothing more.  Were they?  He couldn’t let John know how he felt, after all, John had almost yelled ‘I’m not gay’ from the rooftops.

“Papa, breakfast is ready.  Come on,” Rosie yelled from the kitchen.  When Sherlock didn’t answer her, he felt someone pulling on his dressing gown.  “Papa, come out of your brain and eat with us.”

Laying his gift down carefully on the end table, he joined them in the kitchen.   Quietly he ate his breakfast and even helped do the dishes.  Then retired to his chair.   Rosie gave him a kiss as she headed down to Grandma Hudson to show her what St. Nick left her.

John sat in his chair across from the detective.  After almost an hour without a word from Sherlock, he asked.  “Something wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Lier I can tell that something is bothering you.  Don’t you like the St. Nick gift?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you buy me something like this?  John, it’s expensive.”

“The expense be damn. I saw it a few weeks ago and thought it was perfect for you.” John saw the uncertainty in Sherlock's eyes.  “You have done so much us that I felt this is a small way to show you how grateful I am.    Last night seemed the perfect time to give it to you.”

“No one ever gave me……I’ve done nothing special.  I enjoy having you and Rosie here.  You…. Thank you,” Sherlock started several times before he rose and headed into his bedroom.

John could have sworn that Sherlock had tears in his eyes but knew better not to bring it to his attention.  Once more he wondered what Sherlock’s upbringing was like that a small gift could bring him to tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caught up with the chapters.


	9. Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caring

Music

Sherlock sat in his room trying to understand why John would buy him something so special.  It was beautiful and so personal.  There was no reason to do it, but he had.  He needed to understand it.  Entering his mind palace, he looked of another example of someone who had given him something special where nothing or just the original would do.

A picture of ninth birthday came up.  His parent had brought him books and clothes, the normal.  Mycroft hadn’t given him anything, and he didn’t understand why.   After dinner, Mycroft borrowed his father’s car to head into town.  Even though Sherlock had begged to go along, Mycroft refused, causing his younger brother to pout refusing to talk to anyone.

Mycroft had searched the town and could find nothing special enough for his brother.  About ready to give up, he spotted a tiny store.  Looking into the window, he saw it, the perfect give.

Arriving home, he called out for his brother, but Sherlock was still pouting and refusing to answer.  Thinking about how to get his brother come downstairs, he smiled.

In his room, Sherlock was upset.  Mycroft had left him to go out with friends.  Now that he was in Uni, he hadn’t been available for Sherlock as he used to be.  He was home and couldn’t even spend time with him.   Well, he would show Mycroft and refuse to be with him. 

Laying on his bed, he heard piano music drifting up his way. Something was wrong with it.  After listening for a few minutes, it clicked.  Mycroft was trying to place a piece of music that was written for another instrument.  Quietly going downstairs, he stopped in the doorway.  “That should be an F sharp, not a G Sharp.

“I see.  I’m trying to play and transpose this at the same time.” Mycroft kept playing without turning to look at Sherlock.

Moving into the room, Sherlock looked over his brother’s shoulder.  “That’s for a violin.  I’ve never heard it before. Where did you find it?”

“Actually, I brought it as a gift, but seems the person I brought it for is mad at me.”

“You brought this for me?” 

“Along with that,” Mycroft pointed to an old leather satchel with other sheet music.

Sherlock knew old sheet music was expensive.  He and Mycroft received an allowance, but Mycroft would have had to save his for months to purchase this for Sherlock.   

“Why?” Sherlock couldn’t understand why Mycroft would buy something so special for him when a piece of lab equipment would do.

Mycroft stood and hugged his brother.  “Because I care a great deal for you.”

Sherlock snapped out of his mind palace.  Because he cared, and still does.  Protecting him and getting him out of trouble.  John does the same.  Does that mean John care also?  Is John think he’s special?

Taking a deep breath, Sherlock walked out to the living room where John was still sitting.  Picking up his violin, he looked at John.  “I don’t understand this caring thing but thank you for the beautiful gift.   I didn’t get you anything, but if it’s okay with you, I’d like to play a piece for you that I’ve only ever played for someone who also cares for me.”

With that, Sherlock closed his eyes and played the piece from his heart.


	10. Do you see what I see?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John watches and wonders.

Rosie

Rosie came down from her kip as Sherlock finished playing the piece for John.   “Sherlock, please play for me too?”

Quickly changing over to Christmas carol, Sherlock played for a while. One Christmas song after another always being received by clapping and ‘another’ from Rosie. Afterward, he got down on the floor and played with Rosie’s Christmas gifts with her.  John watched with a smile on his face. Suddenly Sherlock jumped up and grabbed a bunch of blankets and began to build a fort.  After the fort was built, he encouraged Rosie and John to get in, then followed them in with a flashlight.  Once they were all comfortable, he read the Night Before Christmas to Rosie.

John watched the interaction between his two most special people in his life.   Most people wouldn’t believe this if he told them.  Yes, Sherlock seems rude, nasty, and asshole to most people, but there is another side not seen by many.  Do others see what I see that he cares so much cares but refuses to allow others to see it for fear they will hurt him as they have before. 

John excused himself to make supper.  Pulling out the pea, he knew the thing with peas was Sherlock’s favorite and he wanted to show Sherlock how much he appreciated the love he showed for Rosie.

Once supper was over and Rosie was in bed, they sat in front of a roaring flame.  They talked about the holiday coming up and what they would be doing.  A “relaxing feeling came over Sherlock.  Maybe, just maybe this year would be different from the rest. This year he wouldn’t be alone.  

“We should invite Mycroft,” Sherlock suggested.

“You want to invite your brother?  The man you can’t be civil to for two minutes when he stops by.”  John couldn’t hide his surprise.

“Well he is alone, and we know he really cares for Rosie.  Maybe it’s time I drop the nastiness and thank him for always having my back.”

John thought for a few minutes, “If that’s what you want, I’m” Sherlock phone interrupted John.

“Hello.  Anthea?  When? How bad? Where?  I’ll be there as fast as I can.”  Hanging up the phone, he started putting on his coat.

“Where are you going?”

“Mycroft has been shot.  I need to get to him, so Anthea is sending a car for me.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

“No, I’ll keep you updated.”  And Sherlock was out the door.


	11. Comfort and Joy

Sherlock was pacing the waiting room.   Anthea had arranged for them to be in a private area and waited with him not sure how to comfort the detective.  It had been six hours, and Mycroft was still in surgery. 

The door open and John came in, “Sherlock.”

“They don’t know if he will live.  He can’t die John.  He just can’t.” Sherlock’s grief caused a lump in his throat. 

Taking the detective’s hand, he led him to the chair and sat him down.  From the bag he had carried in, John took a hot tea for all three of them and handed it to them.  “Both of you drink that.”  He ordered.

After they had started to drink, John asked.  “What happen?”

Sherlock hadn’t been able to ask Anthea himself and wasn’t sure if she had even told him. 

“We were coming out of the elevator to the garage when an agent who had been fired came out of nowhere and shot him point blank.  The only thing that saved him from hitting his heart was his bodyguard pushing the assassin’s hand down. The bullet hit his stomach instead.”

“Where is the man now?”  Sherlock jumped up demanding.

“Died with about 20 bullets in him,” Anthea assured him.

“Where were his bodyguards? How did the man get in there?  Didn’t his access excide from all government access?” Pulling his hair, Sherlock was pacing more aggravated now. 

“We’re looking into everything now.  Sherlock, you need to sit down before you fall down.”  Anthea explained.

Grabbing his hands as Sherlock passed him, John forced him to sit down.  Encouraging Sherlock to put his head on his lap, John began to run his fingers through the detective’s hair knowing that it had soothed him before.  Anthea began to rub his back gently.

 The comfort the other two offered Sherlock allowed him to start calming down. The tears started to flow, and a quiet sob was heard.  The sobbing became louder, and they heard a whisper.  “He can’t die.  He doesn’t know that I care.  I never told him.”

A little bit later the door opened, “Mr. Holmes?”  Sherlock looked up with a look of uncertainty.

“Did Mycroft make it?” The silent question came from the hopeful detective.

“Your brother is stable and in his room.”  The doctor informed him.

“Can I see him, please?”  Sherlock shocked the others with his pleading.

“For a few minutes only.  He’s still sleeping,” the doctor left.

Sherlock stopped outside the door and pulled himself together.  Opening the door, he saw his brother as he never saw him himself before. Mycroft looked small and pale.  Blankets pulled up to his chin and machines were beeping around him. 

Moving up to the bed, Sherlock took Mycroft’s hand in his own.  “Get better, Myc.  I don’t want to go on without you.  I need you.”  Sitting down, he ran his finger over his brother's hand until his time was up.

Following the nurse out, he quietly said, “I care so don’t you leave me.”

An answering voice sent joy into Sherlock’s heart.  “I love you too, Lock.”


	12. Gingerbread man

 

John, his hand on Sherlock’s back, encouraged him to go up the stairs.  “You need rest.”

“What if something goes wrong when I’m not there?”  Sherlock asked barely able to lift one foot after another up the 17 steps of 221B.  He hadn’t eaten more than a biscuit or fast sandwich nor slept more than an hour or so at a time in the last week.  Mycroft was getting better but did have a few setbacks.  A major one was when Sherlock had gone home one night.  Since then he spent all his time there. 

Today when John had come, Mycroft told Sherlock to go home for at least eight hours and not to come back until he slept and ate decently. “They have orders to call you if there are any more setbacks.  Go home Lock and come back after you look after yourself.  I don’t want to lose you either.”

 John led him into his bedroom where Sherlock dropped on his bed asleep before his head hit the pillow. 

Mrs. H was in the living room when John came out of the sleeping detective’s room.  “How is he?”

John fell into his chair. “Exhausted.  Mycroft made him leave and get some rest and real food.  Sherlock is feeling so guilty over how he has treated Mycroft that he is neglecting himself. I’m glad to see the two of them getting along but hope it doesn’t cause Sherlock to put himself in the bed next to his brother.” 

“I’ll make some dinner for you two and maybe a treat or two for the boys,” Mrs. Hudson informed John.  “You get some rest also.”

Sherlock showed up in Mycroft’s room exactly eight hours after he was sent home.  “I slept six hours, ate a good meal Mrs. Hutson made and took a shower.  Am I allowed back in?”

“Of course.  What do you have there?” Mycroft asked looking at the package in his brother’s hand.

“Mrs. Hutson sent this for us.  She said I couldn’t open it that you were to unwrap it.” 

Mycroft took the package and opened it.  Mycroft suddenly brought out laughing forgetting about the stomach surgery. Holding his stomach, he said, “You told her we like gingerbread men, didn’t you?”

“She knows I do, why?”

Turning the box so Sherlock could see it, a grin appeared on his face.  In the box, the gingerbread men were divided into two piles.  One section had a gingerbread man with a black frosting umbrella while the other side had the ‘hat’ in frosting.

The brothers spent the rest of the evening remembering other occasions, laughing how they managed to sneak them out of the kitchen.  Remembering the frosting that usually ended up on each other, the brothers had the first good day in years.


	13. Frost

Rosie was running around the room singing Frosty the Snowman. They had built one that morning when London had a rare heavy snowstorm. John had brought the book of Frosty and Rosie had asked Sherlock to read it continuously. 

Sherlock had just finished the story for the umpteen time when Rosie asked. “Papa do you know anyone who was frozen like Frosty?”

Sherlock looked at John before answering. “Yes, I do.”

“Did he get unfrozen?” Rosie asked.

“Yes, he had a lot of help to help unfreeze him.” Sherlock smile at John whose head had popped up from reading to hear what Sherlock was saying.

“Was he frozen when he was a child?”

“No, he had a brother who loved him so much. But then they had a fight, and the man thought his brother didn’t love him anymore and his heart started to freeze.” The sad look in Sherlock’s eyes had John moving next to him on the couch and place his hand on Sherlock’s leg.

“But what else happened papa to make his heart freeze?” Rosie snuggled into Sherlock’s chest as he continued to tell the story.

“When he went to school, he was smarter than the other students, and they teased him and called him names when he told them things that he had figured out about them. He stopped trying to be their friend, and his heart froze more to keep the names from hurting him.”

“That is mean papa. What did they call him?”

“Frosty man,” The pain of his memories could be hurt in Sherlock’s voice. “As he grew up, no matter where he went, he could make friends. When he helped the police, some of them called him Frosty man too. But then one day he met a man who liked him. As time went by, the man’s heart unfroze slowly.”

“Was the man he met nice to him?”

“He is one of the kindest, bravest, and tolerant man that Frosty men ever met. Today Frosty man’s heart is no longer frozen. He had learned to care very much about others.”

“Did the man and his brother become friends again? Did the mean people stop calling him the mean name, papa?”

“The man and his brother are slowly working out how to be friends again. There are still mean people who call him names but knowing someone cares about him helped him not to be sad. Because of this man, his heart is no longer frozen.”

“I would love the man so much. Daddy and I would love the man a lot, right daddy?” Rosie asked John who had hugged Sherlock when he had finished talking.

“I would very, very much,” John told her. “Time for bed. Give papa a goodnight kiss and let’s head up to bed.”

“Okay daddy,” Rosie kissed Sherlock and then whispered in his ear. “I would never call you a name papa. I love you.”

Once John had put Rosie to bed, he came back and sat next to Sherlock. “I’m so sorry that you were so hurt before. I’m glad you and Mycroft had begun to mend your bridges. I hope you know how much Rosie and I care for you and that we intend to stay here for as long as you let us.”

“Frosty man knows John. And he hopes you know how much I care for you.”


	14. A Beautiful Sight

Looking up from coloring, Rosie saw John and Sherlock standing in front of the window, the sun in the background was making them shine.  “Daddy, papa you look beautiful. Right Grandma H, Uncle My and Uncle Greg?” Rosie asked them.

Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, and Greg were invited to dinner and were now resting and watching John and Sherlock who still hadn’t admitted what everyone else saw.  The men loved one another.

Mycroft looked at the two men.  It was a beautiful sight to see his brother smiling and laughing.  It had been years since he had seen him happy.  Sherlock looked well fed and rested which he wasn’t before Dr. Watson came around. Now the doctor doesn’t allow him to neglect his body.  And Dr. Watson who suffered from trust issues seemed to trust his brother completely and would follow him to the ends of the earth. The two were good for each other.

Greg could see the unacknowledged love the two had toward one another, and how they had helped each other become happy and satisfied.  Sherlock didn’t seem to be as sharp in his comments and accepted John’s ‘that’s a bit not good.’  John, the first time he saw the doctor he was limping and using a cane, yet one day after meeting Sherlock he was no longer limping or relied on the cane.   The mutual encourage they gave each other, helped the other grow.  Sherlock encouraged John to write even if he teased him, and John accepting Sherlock as he is when others wanted the detective to change.  Yes, it was a beautiful sight.

Mr. Hudson looked at her boys.  There never was a more beautiful sight. Even at the beginning, she knew they weren’t only tenants. It wasn’t long before she considered them part of her family.  Sherlock allowed her to hug him, comfort him and even scold him.  John found her the perfect person to speak to about the fears that he couldn’t share with anyone else.  She could see from the first day that they were meant to be together.  Seeing them standing there she knew they were her family and she was part of their family.

John glanced at Sherlock.  The man was beautiful. The sun shining behind him made him glow.  The man had accepted John back into his life and included Rosie without exception.  Sherlock treated her with kindness and more patience than anyone else.  There was no doubt he loved her completely and would do anything for her.  And lately, John felt that Sherlock might just love him also.

Sherlock smiled at his John, the man who accepted him as he was.  His praise of the things Sherlock did always made his heart swell.  And although most people wouldn’t trust him with a pet, his John let him not only be around Rosie but play, teach, and watch her.  John was a man that was beautiful in everything he does.  His John and maybe one day his everything.

“You are right, Rosie. They are beautiful together.” Greg agreed. 


	15. Toy Soldier

Sherlock had run up the stairs a few moments before taking two at a time and talking a mile a minute about how he had solved the case. John slammed the door as he entered the hall.   Trudging up the stairs in anger, he threw his coat on the couch as he headed into the kitchen.  Slamming each cabinet door as he gathered the necessary things for tea, he mumbled angrily.

Sherlock came into the kitchen, “Is something wrong John?”

“Is something wrong?  Are you kidding me?” John shouted at him.

“I don’t understand why you’re angry.  We solved the case.” Sherlock could tell that John’s anger had something to do with emotions and just didn’t understand it.

“Did you even hear what they were saying about us at the site or what they called us?”  John demanded.

“I just block it out.  Same as normal, Freak, I suppose.”

“Well this time, they not only insulted you which may not upset you but does me.  This time they insulted me also.”  John sigh with exhaustion

“Why?”  Sherlock’s innocence sometimes got in the way of understanding why people became angry over words.

 He cared so much for Sherlock but at times would like to shake some sense into him.   The insults were unacceptable in any situation but especially when Sherlock was helping them. 

Trying to rein in his anger, John attempted to explain why he was livid.  “Although you don’t stand up for yourself when called names.” Sherlock went to interrupt, but John silences him by holding up his hand.  “I can’t take it any longer.  They should not insult you, period.  Today however they made it personal.  They were talking about how I followed you around like a little toy soldier, and it would get me killed someday.”

“A toy soldier, I don’t understand. You are a soldier John.”  Sherlock couldn’t comprehend why this would bother John.

“A toy soldier is someone who is emotionally connected to you, but are "expendable" to a greater cause because they are "expendable" they are referred to a toy.  Or in the Queen’s English, they are someone who has value on their own.  And Sherlock, I do have value.”

“Oh, course you do John.  Without you, I won’t be the way I am today.  You make me a better person.  Rosie wouldn’t be the person she is growing into without you.   The patients you service wouldn’t be getting better.  You are no toy soldier John.  You are my conductor of light and...” Sherlock stopped before saying the next part. To himself, he said, ‘and my heart.”


	16. Seasonal Greetings

There was a banner saying, “Wishing you a Merry Christmas” in the squad room. Sherlock left in a huff. “Sentiment.”

The “Merry Christmas” on the door of Molly’s lab had the detective turning away in frustration. “Sentiment.”

Stopping at the hospital cafeteria, his eyes widen in irritation.  In each corner was a celebration of the month — Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Boxing Day, and even statue of Father Christmas.  Turning without food, he left mumbling about the sentiment of people.

Everyplace he passed had sign proclaim the celebration of the holidays.  Finally reaching the door of 221B, he looked down to pull out his keys then looked up seeing it!

[ ](https://s1260.photobucket.com/user/jkkitty/media/download_zpsgxcprcfz.jpg.html)

That was it, “Mrs. Hudson, what the heck is this on the door?”  He shouted.

Mrs. Hudson appeared in her doorway wiping her hands on a kitchen towel.  “Really Sherlock.  There is no reason to shout.  What is the problem now?”

“What is this monstrously on the door?”  Sherlock demanded as he pointed at the wreath.

Ignoring Sherlock’s complain, she said.  “Isn’t it beautiful?  John, the dear, brought it home from work today. Now you go upstairs, and I’ll bring up some tea and freshly baked biscuits in a few minutes.”

Grumbling about people who have nothing better to do with their time and money, he arrived at the apartment door, to face a seasonal doormat.

“JOHN!” he yelled opening the door only to be met by Rosie who was trying to contain her excitement. 

“Papa did you see it?”  she asked.

“What, darling?”  He mood lightened slightly by seeing her smiling face.

“The wret…wre…the thing on the outside door and our mat.   I helped daddy pick out the mat just for you. We went to tons of stores just to find it.  You like it, don’t you papa?”  

John stood in the door waiting to see what Sherlock would say. 

“You pick it out for me?”  Sherlock felt a little bit of his heart warm up with joy.  “I love it, darling.  Thank you.” 

John smiled sometimes it takes Rosie to allow Sherlock to show sentimental feelings.

[ ](http://s1260.photobucket.com/user/jkkitty/media/download_zps1q60yric.png.html)

 


	17. Warm and comfort

The fireplace was cold and dark just like Sherlock’s mood.  He felt John was unreasonable and they fought over the stupidest thing.  John had packed up a weekend bag and took Rosie to ‘a place where people actually are excited about the holidays.’

Sherlock couldn’t understand it.  He had tried to accept John’s ideas for the holidays.  He found going shopping with him and Rosie to buy presents for their families overwhelming but didn’t complain. He had helped Mrs. Hudson and the Watsons bake and frost cookies although they had accused him of eating more than he frosted.  Then he even helped decorate the apartment.  But caroling, that was just a step too far. 

Remembering how the night before they had laughed watching John’s Christmas movies, Sherlock felt his heart breaking.  He had almost told John that he cared for him more than a flatmate but held back because of uncertainty.  Then this morning John had told him that he was one of the most selfish people he had ever met.

Unable to deal with the letdown, Sherlock headed toward his room. Soon the tears began to run down his face. He would never get what he wanted.  His tears started to slow as he fell asleep.

A small noise woke Sherlock.  It sounded like Rosie, but John had left with her.  Then he heard giggling and heard “Papa are you awake?  We back.” 

Moving quickly, he hurried into the living room.  Rosie was on the floor coloring while he could hear John in the kitchen making tea. The room was warm from the blazing fire.    
“John?”

Bringing in a mug of tea for both of them, John, “I’m sorry that I blew up like that.”

“It’s okay. You just wanted me to be part of your Christmas.  I understand that I wasn’t being fair to you.”  Sherlock said quietly.

“No, it’s not Sherlock.  You have shopped, baked, and even decorated with complaining.  It was unfair of me to demand you had to come caroling with us.  And calling you selfish, that was uncalled for.  If anyone was selfish, it was me.  Can you forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive.”

The two men sat silently sipping their tea.  The fire had the room toasty warm and Rosie had dozed off and had been carried to her bed. 

When Sherlock returned, John was sitting in the middle of the couch and asked.  “Feel like a movie and some popcorn?”

“That would be nice.” Sherlock went to sit in his chair.

“Come over here,” John padded the couch beside him.  “We’ll share a blanket.  Between that the blanket and fire, we’ll spend a warm and comfortable evening in.” 

As the night went on, John rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder.  Although warm all over, the warm of John’s head created hope in Sherlock’s heart.


	18. Celebration

Celebration

Rosie’s school concert was a success.  She had been a dancer in part of the play, but it was her Solo of Santa’s Little Helper that had tears in the Mrs. Hudson’s and the two men’s eyes. 

“Little princess, would you like to go for some ice cream to celebrate your wonderful performance tonight?” Sherlock asked Rosie who was jumping up and down with excitement.

“Can we daddy?  Chocolate, pleeeaaassseeee!”  Rosie begged.

John gave Sherlock a looked that said ‘You’re putting her to bed tonight.” “As long as papa suggested it, I suppose.  But remember you’ll have school tomorrow and need to go right to bed when we get home.”

After the ice cream, Mrs. Hudson suggested a walk in the park that was decorated for the season to help everyone, looking at Rosie, to relax.  Walking through the lit trees, Rosie ohs and ahs nonstop.  See blown-up characters in a clearing up ahead, Rosie ran to look at them with Mrs. Hudson hurrying to keep an eye on her.

Sherlock and John walked slowly, speaking about the season and how Rosie was enjoying it.  They frequently snuck glances at each other and wish for only one thing for Christmas but believe it wouldn’t be fulfilled.

Rosie looked up at the tree branch that Mrs. Hudson had pointed out to her and smiled.  Maybe she could help her daddy and papa finally see that they loved one another each other.  Even she, a four-year-old, could see they cared and wanted to be together, but the two just do not want to say it.  Parents! If it was not for their kids, they would never get together.

“Papa, daddy come here I want to show you something,” she called out.

The men hurried over.  Once they were standing next to her, she looked up and pointed.  “My teacher says when two adults stand under the mistletoe. Is that right?”  A full grin on her face.

“Well,” John began.  “Some people believe that.”  Mrs. Hudson rolled her eyes.

“Isn’t it a rule at Christmas time?”  Rosie now was sporting a pout.

Sherlock glanced at John hoping he would deal with her question.

“It’s not a rule, but more a custom.” 

“Really John.  That’s not an appropriate answer to her question,” Mrs. Hudson scolded.

Rosie pretended to think, “We are following customs with the tree, baking, and decoration, so I think you and papa should follow this one also.”

Sherlock peeked under his fallen hair at John with hope yet distress.  He wanted nothing else but to kiss the doctor but didn’t want John to get angry.  While John peered at the Sherlock behind Rosie, this could give him the opening to discover if Sherlock felt as he did or if his emotional response would send him running.

“Are you and papa going to follow the custom or not?”  An exasperate Rosie demanded.

“Guess we can’t ignore it,” John said.  He slowly approached Sherlock to give the detective a possibility to refused.  Looking into Sherlock’s he saw a mixture of emotions.  Fear, hope, concern and even desire. 

Taking Sherlock’s face in his hands, John gently placed his lips on Sherlock’s.  Feeling nothing for a moment, John almost pulled back, but a second later Sherlock was kissing back.  Breaking the kiss, they scanned the others face before kissing for a second time with passion.

“Woah!  Daddy and Papa are finally kissing.  That means they will get married now, right Mrs. Hudson?”

“Shhhh,” the landlady said.  “Let’s leave them alone for a while.  They’re not up to that yet dear, but there’s nothing that says we can help let alone a little.

A little while later the men joined them.  Walking closer than ever before, the four headed home and the future.


	19. Silent Night

“Sherlock,” John called out.  “Rosie and I are leaving to go caroling.  We’ll be back in a few hours as there will be hot chocolate afterward.”  

John finally understood Sherlock’s problem with caroling.  The lights, crowds. and noise could make his sensitivities worse.  He had just wished that Sherlock would have explained it instead of just saying no before they fought about it.

Getting up from the floor where he was finishing up Rosie’s coat button, he was surprised to Sherlock dressed in his signature coat. 

“I’ll be going with you,” he answered John’s unasked question.

“You don’t have you, love.  I understand your reasoning.”  John assured him.

“We are together now John and should do things together?” the uncertainty could be heard in his voice.

“That’s what boyfriends do, but you have a good reason for not going it.”

Sherlock grabbed his violin case and headed down the stairs before the Watsons.  “Are you coming or not?” He called up the stairs.

Meeting up with the rest of the carolers, many of them surprised to see Sherlock there, he removed his violin and placed the case in the meeting hall of the church.

Before long, the group was singing down the street with violin music to accompany them. 

At the last place, a church, a group were there to service hot chocolate and listen to the group sing.   As they began their last song, a deep baritone could be heard in the background.  Listening to Sherlock’s voice Silent Night singing along with the violin caused John to stopped singing to listen.  Soon others quieted until only Sherlock’s voice and violin finished the song.  Tears could be seen in the eyes of many there at the beauty of it.

Opening his eyes at the end of the song, the detective was surprised by the applause. “That was truly one of the most rendition of Silent Night I have heard,” the pastor told him. “Thank you, Mr. Holmes.   Join us for some hot chocolate?”

John offered Sherlock a hot chocolate when he saw his hands, “Oh my god, what did you do to your hands.”

TBC


	20. Home

After playing his violin with the caroler, John offered Sherlock a hot chocolate when he saw his hands, “Oh my god, what did you do to your hands.”

“I’m fine.  Can we go home now?”

“Your hands are frostnip.  Why didn’t you say anything you, git?”  John angry demanded.

Sherlock looked at his feet ashamed.  “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

John took some deep breaths before gently taking Sherlock hands in his.  His skin was irritated and red.  The skin was cold to the touch and had some ice crystals on the skin. “Are they numb?”  he asked carefully noticing on embarrassed the detective looked.

“They are just starting to become numb.  But John, I’m all right.”

“We need to get you home immediately and warm up your hands.  It sounds like the surface has started to freeze some but no damage yet.  Come on Rosie. We need to get papa home to take care of his hand.”  John said to his daughter who was staring at the two men as he reached for the violin that Sherlock surrendered without a word to him.

Starting to cry, Rosie hugged Sherlock's legs.  “Papa are your hands sick?”

“Don’t cry, Watson.  They’re just cold.  Daddy will take care of them.”  Sherlock assured her.  “John, please can we go home now.”  Then he started walking away.

When they reached the flat, Sherlock looked in pain.  He was having trouble trying to unbutton.  John reached over and did them silently. He could see that the sensations, crowds, lights, and now the cold had taken a toll.   His yelling at Sherlock must have been the last straw. The man looked shattered.

After he wrapped towels around the freezing hands, John took Rosie to bed after assuring her Sherlock would be okay.  When he came downstairs, Sherlock was sitting where he left him looking devastated.

“I’m sorry John for spoiling your evening.”

“Whatever for?  You spoiled nothing.   I just can’t understand why you didn’t say something when your hands became so cold.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Sherlock, I was so proud of you.  You put aside your discomfort to come out with Rosie and me.  Played your violin, which added beauty to our caroling, and even sang with us.  Everyone was impressed with your contribution.  But you can’t let yourself be hurt like that.  No one would have minded if you came home earlier.” 

“But you and Rosie are my home,” Sherlock whispered, but John heard.

“Oh darling, you are also our home.  Please don’t do anything like that again.”  John kissed him.  “It wouldn’t be a home without you.”


	21. Hopes and Fears

 

Sherlock sat staring at the Christmas tree lights unable to use his violin to help him think for a few days due to the frostnip.  But that wasn’t what had him in his mind palace.  It was the kiss.  John had kissed him.  Really kissed him.

“Of course, I did,” Said mind John.  “I told you that I love you.  I just waited till I thought you were ready.  Didn’t want to scare you away.”

“But why would you want me?  I’m not a good person.”  Sherlock argued back.

“You are my person.   Now, where do we go from here?”  John asked, or maybe it was Sherlock hope.

“Don’t let him fool you.  He just wants what he can get and then will walk away again.  Look how he chose dear Mary over you even when he knew she almost killed you,” Moriarty hissed in his ear.

“John wouldn’t do that to me,” Sherlock insisted.

“Don’t listen to him,” Lestrade encouraged searching his pockets for his warrant card.  “Everyone can see you two are made for each other except you two.  About time someone made a move.  Now you need to open up and accept him.”  Throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. “Sherlock, did you nick my warrant card again?”

“I want to but am not sure he really wants me.  He was concern about my hands.  What if it was only the heat of the moment?” 

“Sherlock.  I know that I told you caring was a disadvantage, but I think in this case I might have been wrong.  Even I can see you two belong together,” Mycroft, sitting his John’s chair and leaning on his umbrella, observed the confusion on his brother’s face.  “Do you love him, brother?”

“More than anything in the world,” Sherlock said.  “But Mycroft I’m scared.”

Jim appeared with a sneer, hands in his pocket. “Ah, the big bad consulting detective is afraid of his pet’s love,”

“Leave him be,” an angry Mrs. Hudson hit him over the head with her frying pan. “You two boys have been running from this for a long time.  Just give in and love him.  Make an old lady happy.”

“I love him so, but afraid of losing him,” Sherlock sounded as if he would give up.

“You can’t love him.  What about me?”  a shy Molly asked. “I’ve always loved you.”

Suddenly the voice began fighting one another.   Sherlock held his head screaming, “Stop it!”  before snapping out of his mind palace

“You okay, papa?” small hands were holding his face in her hands.

Taking a deep breath, he smiled at her.  “Yes, Watson.  Where is daddy?”

John entered the room bring popcorn, tea, and a movie.  “I thought we might have a quiet night at home.”  He said sitting close to Sherlock as possible.  “Maybe snuggle some under the covers and even exchange a kiss or so.”

Rosie slid off Sherlock’s lap then twilled around singing. “Woo, daddy and papa sitting under the tree.  K I s s I n g,” Stopping she tilted her head.  “Does that mean you are going to marry papa, daddy.  That’s what the song says.”

Smiling, John glanced at Sherlock who was blushing.  “We’ll see.  For now, how about you join us for a movie night?” 

John leaned over and kissing Sherlock again. His heart leaped in his chest as John snuggled next to him, and Rosie his lap.  This might just be his dream come through. 


	22. Feast

“Sherlock,” John called out from the kitchen.  When he received no answer, he went into the sitting room asleep with Rosie laying on his chest.   Smiling he went over by them, leaning down he kissed both of them on the cheek.  The kiss he had shared with Sherlock the day before had allowed him to hope that maybe they could be more than flatmates and co-parents. 

Smiling, he headed back to the kitchen and began supper.  Taken out the frosting peas, a chicken and some spices.  He hummed Christmas carols as he worked.  After he placed the ‘pea thing’ as Sherlock called in the oven, he looked in on his two most favorite people who were still sleeping.

 “Salad,” he said to himself pulling out the ingredients including the little white onions Sherlock enjoyed.  Then decided to make a special dressing that he saw Sherlock over poured on his salad more than once. 

John’s phone rang, but he managed to answer it before waking up either of his sleepers. John laughed when Mycroft asked what he could bring to Christmas dinner. “Did I say something funny, Dr. Watson.” 

“Sorry, Mycroft. I had just glanced in at your brother and Rosie.  Both are snoring on the couch. They really tuckered themselves out this morning in the snow.”  John laughed once more.  “Rosie kept throwing snowballs at Sherlock that he allowed to hit him.  When they came in, they were white from head to toe.  To your question, dessert would be great.”

“Done. I must admit, I never thought Sherlock would care for a child like he does Rosie.  White from snow, I hope you took a picture of them.”  Mycroft never was one to waste time with small talk, Mycroft managed to confirm the dessert, commented on his brother, and ask for a picture.

“I did and will text it to you.  See you Christmas Day.”  John hung up and looked at the two sleepers.

“Mince Pie,” he mumbled.  “It will only take 30 minutes or so, and we actually have everything here.” 

The smell of the food woke the sleepers up.  Carrying Rosie in the kitchen, Sherlock stared at the nicely set table and the food on it.  “John, what’s this?”

“I wanted to treat my two favorite people to dinner,” John confessed. He took Rosie from Sherlock then pulled the chair out for Sherlock.

Dinner was eaten with laughed and great conversation.  John was sitting in his chair before the fire when Sherlock came in to join him.  Before sitting down, Sherlock leaned over and gave John a fast kiss.

“What’s that for?”  John asked surprised Sherlock kissed him.

“The feast and cause I care, a lot.  Thank you, John.” 


	23. Nightmare before Christmas

John and Sherlock were smooching on the couch when the doorbell rang.   Rosie was just coming up the stairs from Grandma H and ran back down to open it.

“Rosie, don’t,” John yelled as he came to the top of the stairs, but she already had it open.  A hand reached in and pulled her out before slamming the door.

“ROSIE!” John shouted as he ran down the stairs with Sherlock right behind him.  As they opened the door, they heard a car speeding away.  Mycroft man was laying on the ground bleeding from the stomach. Before they could even call, another of Mycroft’s car sped pass after the kidnappers.

“Why?  Who?  Sherlock, what are we going to do?”  John was beside himself with anger and worry.

For the first time, John could remember, Sherlock was speechless.  “I…I…. don’t.  John, I sorry.  I can’t think.” Just then his phone pinged.  Looking at the text, Sherlock started to take off down the street.

“Sherlock, what is it?  Where are you going?”  John chased after him grabbing his arm to stop him.

“Getting Rosie back,” Sherlock said pulling his arm back. 

“Who was that text from?  What do they want?”  John demanded.

“Stay here. I’m going to take care of this.  She’ll be back soon,” I promise.

“And you?  Sherlock w h a t  d I d  t h a t  t e x t  s a y?” John was angry now.

A second black car stopped in beside them while Greg’s car stopped at the same time. 

“Sherlock, John,” Mycroft called out.  Turning to talk to Mycroft and Greg, John and both other men missed Sherlock taking off into the alley. 

“Sherlock stop!” all three yelled at the same time as they headed toward the alley.  By the time they arrived there, Sherlock was no place in sight.

“What’s going on?” Greg asked.  He had received an emergency call from Mycroft to get to 221B immediately.  When Mycroft sounds as he did on that call, Greg didn’t ask questions he just ran.

“Someone took Rosie,” John then explained what happened.  “Then Sherlock received a text and took off.   I’m going to kill that git if they don’t.”  

“Dr. Watson, can we get back to the issue at hand.”  Mycroft seemed so calm, but Greg could see the fear in his eyes.  “I can trace my brother’s phone.  After his many disappearing acts, an extra tracing device was built into his phone’s case.”

A moment later Rosie came running around the corner sobbing, “Daddy.” The men ran to her and John picked her up.  “Are you okay?  Are you hurt?”  He asked checking her over.

Still crying, “Some people hurt papa and pushed him in a car it drove away.  The mean men told me to run around the corner to find you, and they threw papa’s coat and phone on the ground.   I brought you the phone to find him.”

Mycroft grabbed the phone opening it immediately.  The text still displayed on the screen:  Around the corner now, or the girl will be returned dead.  Quickly dial, Mycroft gave orders to immediately have Sherlock’s phone picked up, and the IP address tracked.   Then listen for a few seconds.  “Fine come back to Baker Street.”

“Mycroft?”  John asked as they headed upstairs. “

 “They managed to misdirect us,” Mycroft said.  “My men caught up with the car and found that it was a red herring.”

 “Did they hurt you when they put you in the car?”  Greg asked Rosie

“I not in a car Uncle Greg.  They carried me around the corner.”  Rosie said around her thumb she had put in her mouth for comfort.  “Uncle My and Uncle Greg you find my papa for me?”

It didn’t take long before Mycroft’s phone rang, and he received an address. Giving

Rosie to Mrs. H after John promised his daughter that he would bring papa home, the three men entered Mycroft car and headed toward the address.

The area was falling down and covered with weeds.  Quietly sneaking up to the house, they reached a window and saw two men punching the detective.  Of course, was aggravating them with his deduction that led to them becoming angrier.  Finding the no one else in the building, Greg and John headed down to the room that Sherlock was held in while Mycroft and his bodyguard, who refused to allow his employer to go into danger, waited for the all clear.

Busting through the door, the kidnappers turned to face John’s gun.  “Move away from him,” John ordered. Within a minute both men were cuffed, and Sherlock untied.  The men were taken upstairs where they were hurried into a government car, and Mycroft assured Greg that anyone who touches Rosie would never see the light of day again.

“How is Rosie?”  Sherlock asked.

 “She’s alright and with Mrs. H.  Are you alright?”  John asked checked Sherlock over.

“Stopped fussing John.  I’m fine,” which John might have believed if Sherlock hadn’t passed out as he stood up.

Catching him and carrying him toward the car, John mumbled, “Fine my butt.”

After John and Sherlock arrived home, retrieved Rosie, and ate, they cuddled on the couch under a warm blanket.  “Papa, are you hurt bad?”

“No,” Sherlock assured him ignoring John’s look.  “I’m so proud of you Rosie for being a brave girl and giving Daddy my phone.  You rescued me.”

Rosie fell asleep a little later.  “Sherlock.”  John started.

“Shh, you’ll wake up Rosie,”  Sherlock whispered trying to avoid the talk John wanted to have.

“Later, we’ll have the talk later,”  John said leaning his head on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock smiled, this is what happiness was.  Spending the night with John and Rosie.


	24. Peace

Sherlock and John laid together, happy and peaceful.  The last month had brought discovery, pain, happiness, fear, uncertainty, comfort, sadness, and joy.  One became two while two became three.  Family, that’s what they had become.

As John slept, Sherlock thought about the day. Woke up this morning by Rosie jumping on the bed.  “Papa, papa Santa was here.  Get up!!  Daddy says we must eat breakfast and wait for all members of the family to be here to be here to open presents.  Grandma H is here, and we are waiting for you.  GET UP Plllleeeaaassseee.”

Teasing her, Sherlock had pulled the covers over his head.  Rosie yelled, “Daddy, papa won’t get up.”

John came into the room, “I guess we’ll have to give his gifts to someone else then.” 

To which Sherlock threw back the covers and ran into the sitting room.  “Mine, all mine,” he said when Rosie joined him.

“No papa, Santa brought me some too.”  Rosie stood in front of the tree.

“Santa is...” a glare had Sherlock stop mid-sentence.  “very big-hearted to give us all these things.” 

To which he received a smile and a small kiss on the lips from John, “Very good catch, love.”

Again, John had called him love stopping his heart with joy. 

The tap, tap, tap of an umbrella came up the stairs bringing Mycroft to join them for breakfast.  Sherlock had been pleasantly surprised when his brother had agreed to join them for the day.

Opening presents had them all smiling and laughing.  Rosie tore off the paper and yelled with joy frequently.  John and Mrs. Hudson were pleased with their gifts.

Sherlock was touched by the ones he received especially Rosie. Rosie had made a handprint in clay and written, ‘With love to my papa.’ Bringing tears to his eyes.  John had told him he wanted to give him his gift at the party later.

Mycroft seemed surprised that he received someone from everyone.  It was Sherlock’s gift of a rare book he had been trying to find, that left him speechless to everyone’s amusement. 

Later that afternoon, friends of John and Sherlock had joined them to celebrate the day.  After eating dinner, cooked by Mrs. H, with the help of her ‘boys’ conversation was shared.  It was during this time that John offered a toast.  Everyone became quiet when he raised glasses of champagne was passed out.

“As you all know, I have frequently announced that I’m not gay when people asked about Sherlock and I being together.  Well, I’m still not gay,” which had a sad look passed over Sherlock’s face, but John continued, “But I am in love with a man.  I hope he will do me the honor of being my boyfriend.  Sherlock, will you do me the honor of being my boyfriend?”

For the second time that day, one of the Holmes was speechless.  Opening and closing his mouth, nothing came out. 

“I think you broke him, John.”  Greg teased.

“Sherlock, are you alright?”  John asked concerned for him.

“You want to be my boyfriend?”  Sherlock finally had asked.

“If you’ll have me,” John assured him.

A few tears escaped his eyes, “Yes.”  Sherlock had said.

John had hugged him-right in front of everyone.   “John,” he had whispered concerned that now people would know. “Everyone is watching us.  They all will know we’re together.”

“And I’m fine with it.  Now, you’re standing under mistletoe, and I believe that means we need to share a kiss.”  Then began a lite kiss that soon became deep.

“Get a bed,” Mike yelled causing Sherlock to pull back brushing deep red and causing everyone to start laughing and joking with the men. 

Coming back to the present and looking at the man sleeping in his arm, he smiled at the memories of what had happened after the party.  Closing his eyes, he hoped his dreams would replay every second of it.  As he joined John in sleep, he realized for the first time in a long time he was at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have read and commented on boys journey. I appreciate your support.
> 
> Hope your holidays are wonderful and bring you what you wish for. Merry Christmas and Happy New Years.


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